Love, Death, and a Turnabout
by Mister Mystery
Summary: Edgeworth had never taken a romantic interest in anyone before her. Now her life hangs by a thread and he must struggle to hold himself together while attempting to solve the mystery of her past. Edgeworth/OC, one year after AJ:AA.
1. Dreams and Nightmares

_"I don't suppose this seat is taken?"_

_I look up from my book. I see a tall woman in a brown coat. Blonde, rather curly hair trickles down from her head to her shoulders. Her face is immaculate. She smiles politely at me. I am struck by her beauty. I am rarely struck by such things._

_"No. Have a seat."_

_She sits next to me on the bench. It's spring. Buds are forming on the tree branches above us. She looks out at the lake in the center of the park. I try to turn my attention back to my book, and I fail. She notices my constant glances at her._

_"Aren't you going to ask me my name?"_

_She turns to me and grins playfully. I notice her accent - New York, maybe Brooklyn._

_"I was, actually." I answer honestly. For once I had felt the need to know._

_She crosses her arms and gives me a look. "Karen Alhart."_

_Looking at her twinkling eyes, her genuine smile, I think the name fits her perfectly._

_"Miles. Miles Edgeworth."_

_It's summer now. The leaves are rustling around us as the wind blows. The scent of flowers in full bloom is carried on the current. Her hand is on mine as we sit and watch children play in the lake._

_"I'm not boring you, am I?"_

_I look away from the lake. She's staring at me, smirking. She must have seen the faraway look in my eyes._

_"No, not at all. I was just...reminiscing." It felt odd to say the word. I so rarely used it._

_"Childhood memories, huh?" She nodded knowingly._

_"Something like that."_

_We sat in silence for a moment. I felt like I should say something._

_"I suppose I should be focusing on making new fond memories." It was corny. Cliched._

_She beams at me and squeezes my hand._

_Fall. The wind is getting cold and bitter. It's whipping the leaves around us as we walk underneath the trees._

_"Must we always meet here?" I asked idly._

_"I thought you liked the park, Miles."_

_"I do. But we haven't been anywhere else."_

_She stops in the middle of the path. I turn to her. She looks despondant._

_"I'm sorry I can't go with you anywhere else, Miles. But I...I just can't."_

_I'm suddenly very sorry for ever asking the question._

_"It's okay," I say reassuringly. "As long as you're here, I don't need to be anywhere else."_

_I said it on a whim. It was a lame line, but I meant it truly. I can see happy tears welling in her eyes. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. It catches me by surprise, but I quickly adapt to the situation._

_Winter. The sun has long since set. The clouds are thick. Snowflakes are gently falling to earth. I stand underneath a streetlight in the park. Visibility is poor. I can barely see beyond the next light up the path._

_She stares at me helplessly. "I'm sorry Miles. I have...family obligations."_

_"We can go somewhere. Think this through." I speak slowly and quietly, even though my mind is working itself to death trying to find a way to get her to stay. "I have a vacation home in the country. We can go there-"_

_"No, Miles." She reaches up and strokes my cheek with her gloved hand. "I want to stay. I wish I could. But I can't."_

_I reach up and touch her hand on my face. For a long while we just stare into each other's eyes. Her eyes are green. Beautiful._

_"I'm sorry."_

_She withdraws her hand and turns around. I watch her walk away. The snow and fog envelopes her. I see her briefly in the pool of light below the second streetlamp, and then she's gone._

I'm awake.

I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. It's still dark. I look at the large grandfather clock off to the side of the bedroom. 3:22.

Sleep has been hard lately. But it's always hard this time of year.

I hear rain start to fall against the window. The first rain of spring.

A few minutes later the phone rings. I groan beneath my pillow. I was almost back to sleep. I reach over and pull the reciever off the handset. I don't bother checking the caller I.D.

"Edgeworth."

"_Miles?"_

Providence. I believe that's the word for an occurence such as this.

"Karen?"

"_Don't speak. Meet me at the park in twenty minutes. The usual place. Please, it's important."_

She hangs up before I can respond. She didn't have to ask twice. I was dressed and out the door in ten minutes. I take my overcoat to protect against the rain.

As I drive to the park I can only imagine why she's calling at three thirty in the morning on a Sunday after having not seen or spoken to each other for years. I wonder what could be so important. As I pull into the parking lot, I realize that it doesn't matter to me.

I walk along the path until I get to the lamppost just before the bench where we met. It's still raining, and a fog is starting to build up. I stick my hands in my pockets and wait.

I'm not entirely sure how long I waited there. After a while I began to feel like a fool. Perhaps I had dreamt her call. Perhaps I was out here for no reason whatsoever, just deluding myself thinking that she'd show up in this weather. I was about to leave when I saw someone coming towards me.

The silhouette of a person grew stronger as it forged through the rain and fog. As it stepped into the light of the lamp up the path I became convinced it was Karen. Her figure was unmistakable.

Then she got closer. I saw that she was walking strangely. Quick, staggering steps. As she stepped into the light of my streetlamp I realized she was wounded. She was clutching her abdomen, a large red stain covering her brown coat. She staggered towards me. For a moment, I was in shock.

"Miles..." Her legs gave out from underneath her. I ran and caught her before she hit the ground. Gently, I lowered her and knelt beside her. I didn't know what had happened. I didn't know what to do.

"It's going to be alright," I hear myself say. My voice was wavering. "Don't try to speak."

"Miles...I missed you..." She raises one of her blood covered hands to my face. For a moment it lingers. Then it falls.

I lift her head to my chest. My tears mingle with the rain and her blood. For a moment I can't breath or think or move. Only a moment.

I rip out my cell phone and call 911. We were close to the hospital. There was still hope. There had to be.


	2. Unwanted Sympathy

I stayed with her all night. Getting a ride in the ambulance was the easy part - I said I was her family. They had driven at top speed to the hospital, tearing into the emergency room. Though I couldn't follow them everywhere, I stayed close. Paced around in the waiting area until someone came out to tell me how she was. Not good, they said. She needed blood. I told them to take mine. O positive. It was a match. It was the first time I'd ever actually given blood. I hoped it would be the last time I'd give it to her. I resumed my pacing, even though I felt a little lightheaded by this point. But soon my patience was rewarded, and a doctor arrived. They'd succeeded in removing the bullet.

"...Bullet?" I ask stupidly.

"Yes, she was very lucky. It missed her major organs and ricocheted against a rib. Another inch or so in any direction and she'd be dead."

I gripped the doctor's shoulders tightly. "What is her condition?"

"Critical," he answered quickly. "She'll have to stay in the ICU for a few days before she's stable."

Slowly I lowered my hands. I asked to spend the night near her. At first they weren't going to allow it. Thankfully, I had my Chief Prosecutor's badge in my overcoat pocket. They made an exception for me.

Normally I wouldn't have slept, but I had given a lot of blood. Combined with the poor sleep I'd been getting lately, it put me out like a light. I slept on a couch in a small waiting room off to the side of the ICU.

_She was bleeding. Her coat was red. I tried to hold on. She was being dragged away from me. Pulled above me. Or I was falling. I held her hand. I wouldn't let go. But she did. I started falling, felt wind rush past my ears..._

"Mr. Edgeworth? Wake up."

My eyes shot open. A woman wearing white glasses with pink lenses was staring down at me. I sat bolt upright. Still in the waiting room.

"How is she?" I asked instantly, hoping she'd know.

"She's...doing a little better, but still critical." The pause was thick between her words. She looked uncomfortable. She pulled a small bag of snacks out of her pocket and offered me some. I declined, even though I was still drowsy from the blood loss. I didn't have much of an appetite.

"I need to ask you some questions, Mr. Edgeworth."

Then I recognized her. Ema Skye, homicide detective. White labcoat, brown vest, bag with untold number of forensic supplies and choclate Snackoos over her shoulder.

"Of course." I answered, still trying to clear my head of sleep and nightmares.

She asked me questions for an hour. Mostly about Karen. I told her everything I knew, which I suddenly realized wasn't all that much. I told her about the call, and how I had found her. She made notes of the important bits.

"What time is it?" I asked idly when the questioning was finished.

"Almost ten." She said, munching briefly on a Snackoo. "I should get over to the crime scene. Are you going to be...okay, Mr. Edgeworth?"

I waved her away. "I'm not leaving."

She gave me a little sad look before she turned around and hurried out of the room. I was left only with my thoughts. They weren't very good company. I considered calling Wright. He'd be here in a heartbeat. Of course he'd bring his entire entourage with him, most assuredly - his wife, his daughter, his protege. I didn't particularly want to have to deal with all of them right then. So I simply sat there and tried not to think about what was happening.

* * *

The ringing. How I loathe it. Especially on a Sunday.

I fought the overwhelming urge to throw the phone against the wall and snuggle closer to Maya. Instead, I answered it.

"Mah?" I said, my voice muffled by pillows and comforters.

"Mr. Wright? It's Ema. Ema Skye...?"

"Muh huh."

"Mr. Edgeworth is at the hospital...see, there's been a shooting..."

"Mu - _what?!_"

I sat bolt upright in bed. I had woken Maya with my shout. She quickly tried to regain conciousness as I tried to understand what Ema was telling me.

"Well, see, there was this girl, and I guess she's Mr. Edgeworth's family and she was shot last night-"

_"_You mean _Franziska?!"_ This didn't make any sense. She wasn't in town, was she?

"No no no, not her, it's someone else. A 'Karen Alhart.'"

The name wasn't ringing any bells. That actually worried me more, if it was at all possible. "Which hospital?" I asked as I jumped out of bed and began to get dressed.

"St. Froderick's. Mr. Edgeworth is still there, in the ICU waiting room-"

"_ICU?!"_ This was getting more serious by the second.

"Yes, if you could just...I don't know, keep an eye on him Phoenix? I'm a little worried. He seems like he needs a friend right now..."

"I'm on my way." I said as I hung up and tried to get my legs into my pants. Maya stared at me with growing concern. "What's happened?"

I gave her the short version. "Edgeworth's in the ICU waiting room of St. Froderick's hospital because someone important to him was shot last night."

There was a moment of silence as she tried to process what I had said. Then she lept for the dresser and begin rummaging through it, looking for her clothes. "Hurry up Nick, we've got to get there fast!"

As we finished getting dressed, there came a knock on the bedroom door. "Breakfast is ready!" Trucy called cheerily.

"Gonna have to pass today, Truce." I said as I opened the door. "You stay here, we'll be back soon, I promise."

* * *

Sitting in the waiting room was slowly killing me. I had to do something, anything. But I couldn't just leave her here alone.

In the end I settled for pacing up and down the hall, getting strange looks from the nurses and orderlies that passed me. I considered getting something to eat, but I didn't think I could keep it down anyway. Suddenly, as I passed near the main lobby, I heard a familiar voice.

"We're looking for Miles Edgeworth."

I quickened my pace and hoped he wouldn't notice me as I passed by. Then I heard another familiar voice.

"Wait, Nick, there he is!"

Damn it.

I turned around. Phoenix Wright was in his usual blue business suit. His red tie was out of place and his hair wasn't nearly as spikey as it usually was. Maya Fey was dressed in her deep purple slacks and jacket, but they were wrinkled and she had missed a button. Her long black hair only had one tie in it. I guessed they had just heard and gotten here as fast as they could. I rather wished they hadn't.

"Edgeworth, what's happened?" He asked as he ran over.

"It's none of your concern," I said coldly. I was in no mood for this.

"It _is_ our concern if it concerns you!" Maya said firmly, her cheeks flush with color. She did not appreciate my tone.

"What can I say to make you leave?" I asked honestly. "That I'm fine, that everything's okay, that I don't want any of you here right now? What do you want?!"

"What is your problem, Edgeworth?" Wright allowed some anger to mix with the concern in his voice. "We're here to help you."

"I don't _want_, nor do I _need_ your help!" I said with perhaps more force than was necessary. Just then, a thought occurred to me.

"If you really want to do something useful," I said, "Stay here and keep an eye on her. Call me if there's any changes." I began to storm off to the exit, but Wright caught me by the shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked sternly.

"I'm going to the crime scene." I should have been there hours ago, but I couldn't bring myself to leave her side. Now that they were here, I could finally do something.

"Oh, so you're just going to investigate, solve, and prosecute this case all by yourself?" His tone was doubtful.

"If I have to, _yes."_ I was getting angry. He was keeping me from doing what I had to do. Why was he doing this?

"I'm going with you." He said simply.

"Stay out of this, Wright. It doesn't concern you." I said again. I felt suddenly furious at his constant attempts to wheedle into my life. I didn't need him.

"Try and stop me." His grip was resolute. I felt my fist tighten of it's own accord. I don't remember the exact moment of the punch. The next thing I do remember is seeing him on the floor, Maya kneeling down to try and help him up. She said something, I can't remember what, looking at me like I was crazy. I turned around and stormed out of the hospital.

As I passed through the parking lot of the hospital, I shook my left hand. It was starting to hurt. Numbly, I wondered what had just happened. But as I began the walk to the park, all other concerns drifted from my mind. The only thing left was to get to the crime scene.

* * *

That arrogant, stubborn, pompous, emotionally stunted _son of a bitch._ What the _hell_ was his problem?

I wiped my mouth with my hand. I tasted blood.

Maya helped me back to my feet. "Are you okay?" She asked, wiping more blood off my bottom lip.

"Yeah," I answered stiffly. "But I don't know about him."

"He didn't mean it, he can't have." She stared at the hospital doors Edgeworth had left through. "He's just...being Edgeworth right now, I guess."

"Well, now's not the time to indulge him." I pulled out my cell phone and began dialing furiously.

"Who are you calling?" She asked with some concern.

"Backup."

* * *

Good vocalization in court is important. It's not enough to just have the right evidence or the right testimony, you have to have the right _presence._ That's why I bought the whole set of "Chords of Steel" speech training DVDs, and why I'm always a little miffed when someone calls on a Sunday. It's my training day.

I grabbed the phone and cleared my throat. "Justice speaking," I said in a deep baritone. Not bad at all.

"Apollo, get to St. Froderick's hospital. Now." It was Mr. Wright. He sounded pissed. This was interesting to me - since I'd known him he had always been a real easy going guy. I knew it had to be important.

"On my way, Mr. Wright." I paused. I was embarassed to ask, but if it really was important, I had to. "Um...I don't suppose you could give me directions?"

I heard a heavy sigh from the other end of the line. "Okay, take Garden street until you get to Autumn avenue..."

* * *

"...then take a right and you can't miss it."

"Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can Mr. Wright." He hung up. I stuck my cell back in my pocket. I went to say something to Maya and found she wasn't there. I looked around and saw her at the end of the corridor leading to the ICU. She was staring through the window of the door.

"Which one do you think is his friend, Nick?" She said as walked up to her. I peered through the tiny window in the door. I couldn't see many of the patients' faces, but I could recognize a gunshot wound when I saw one.

"I think it's her." I pointed to the golden haired woman wearing the oxygen mask. Her bandages were around her waist and I could see red beginning to seep through. There was always at least one doctor or nurse near her, checking her IV, her blood pressure, her heart rate.

"She doesn't look too good..." Maya said quietly.

"She'll be alright." I tried to reassure her. I had no idea if she would make it or not, but I had to stay hopeful.

She turned away from the window and looked at me. "What now?"

"Now we wait for Apollo to get here, then he stays with her," I motioned to the ICU, "While we go and find out who tried to kill her."

Maya paused for a moment. She gave me a strange look. "But Nick, we're not exactly allowed in the crime scene. You're a defense attorney, not a prosecutor."

"I think Ema will let us in," I said confidently. I had helped prove her sister Lana innocent of murder some years ago. Ema certainly hadn't forgotten. "But if she doesn't...well, we'll just have to sneak in. I'm sure _you_ wouldn't have a problem with that." I said with a small smile.

Maya grinned at me. "I always knew you'd come around to my way of thinking some day."


	3. Cryptic Clues

"Mr. Edgeworth! What are you doing-"

I silenced her with a look. "Just tell me what you've found so far."

I was back in the park. It was still wet from last night's rain. There were puddles on the path, the ground was muddy, and the air was thick and humid. The police and CSI were everywhere, snapping photographs or cordoning off sections of the park.

Ms. Skye looked thoroughly flustered. Perhaps by the case, perhaps by my sudden appearance. I found I didn't care.

"We found a single shell casing from a nine millimeter pistol. We haven't had time to do a full ballistics report yet, but preliminary inspection suggests it was fired from a gun with a silencer." I appreciated her business-like candor. The last thing I wanted right now was a pathetic attempt at comforting me, which her predecessor would have certainly tried. "We also found boot prints in the mud. We're making plaster casts of them now."

"Anything else?"

She pouted. "The rain washed away the blood and fingerprints. But we're still looking for any other clues."

"I'm going to have a look around." I said as I brushed past her. If I've learned anything from Wright, it's that the police often miss things in their search. I couldn't leave before I had checked the area myself.

I made at least two circuits of the park, looking on and off the path, checking the grass and the trees and the flower beds. I even tried to peer into the lake for all the good it did. As I searched, memories kept flying through my mind, unbidden. The day we met. The day we kissed. The day we rented a boat. The day we just walked and talked until sundown. Every time I thought of her I felt a pain in my chest, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I tried to keep my mind on my work, tried to consider the case as cool and clinically as possible - the use of a silencer and the lack of any other evidence besides boot prints meant that it was premeditated. Perhaps even professional. But if it was, the assassin was sloppy - he had forgotten to pick up the shell casing, hadn't considered the weather would leave his tracks as well as cover them. I tried to imagine who would have a grudge against Karen, who could want to kill someone like her. But I didn't even _know_ her. We just met in the park every day. I had never seen her elsewhere, never asked where she worked. I didn't even know where she lived.

I stopped dead in my tracks. _I_ didn't know where she lived, but the police must.

I sprinted back to the entrance of the park. "Detective!" I shouted when I was within earshot. "Where does she live?"

Again, Ms. Skye was taken aback at my sudden arrival. "Uh, wait, hold on." She began to root through her brown messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. I heard the clinking of test tubes and beakers and the crunching of bags of Snackoos before her hand emerged with a notepad. "Um, according to her driver's license, she lives at 342 Macintyre Boulevard. We sent some officers over to investigate a short while ago."

"Call me when the reports are finished." I said before rushing off to my car. I didn't know what I would find at her home, but I knew I'd find something.

* * *

"Wait, so _I_ have to stay here?" Apollo said rather indignantly.

I frowned at him. "Apollo, this is personal. I'd appreciate it if you'd just do as I ask."

He frowned right back, but averted his gaze. Maya took his hand in hers. "I know you don't like being left out of the loop Apollo, but this is important. Someone has to stay with her, she's got no one else."

His expression softened. Maya had an uncanny ability to get people do what she wanted, whether it was have burgers for the fifth night in a row or guard a patient in the ICU. "Okay, Mrs. Fey. But _please_ call if something happens, all right?"

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Of course. Thanks, Polly."

"If you want some company, you can call Trucy and have her come down. I'm sure she'd appreciate being filled in on the situation." I suggested.

"_I'm_ not even filled in on the situation." Apollo whined. "But maybe I will. Two heads are better than one, after all."

As Maya and I left for the park, I silently wished Edgeworth understood that.

* * *

I pulled up to a high class apartment building of perhaps ten stories. The architecture was thoroughly modern and the location was excellent. The rent must have been extravagant.

There were several police cruisers parked outside. I hoped the officers wouldn't get in my way.

Even in my current state, I found myself impressed as I entered the lobby. The ceiling was high, the front of the building was made entirely of glass, the furniture was slick black leather, and there was a large mobile hanging above.

I walked briskly to the vapid receptionist filing her nails at the front desk and asked where Karen Alhart lived. Room 802. Wonderful.

I have a problem with elevators. Being trapped in one with your father when you were nine years old and passing out from lack of oxygen only to wake up and find him dead from a bullet wound will give anyone problems. But when confronted with walking eight stories when I haven't slept well for days and haven't eaten anything in over fifteen hours, I will take the elevator.

After stepping off the infernal machine the instant the doors opened, I found myself only a few doors down from 802. There was an officer standing guard at the door. He moves to stop me before I pull out my Chief Prosecutor's badge. He quickly apologizes and allows me entry. I take a deep breath as I open the door.

I feel a pressure on my chest as I investigate her apartment. I am startled by how much we have in common - there are hardwood floors and antique furniture, crimson curtains and a king size bed with made sheets. I even find a chess set with metal pieces styled after medieval England. The weight on my chest gets worse as I find pictures of her. There are travel photos, shots of her in front of Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, and the Pyramids of Giza. There are shots of her with what I guess are family; an older gentleman with red hair and a bushy beard patting her on the head, an austere older woman with the same golden hair styled into a bun smiling proudly with her in front of what looks like a museum, and a younger man with a devil-may-care smile who looks so much like her I can only assume they must be twins.

But I find another picture underneath the dresser, face down and near the wall. The glass has cracked and the picture has twisted inside. It's her, smiling as usual, but there's a man standing behind her with his arms around her waist and his head far too close to hers. His dark hair is immaculately parted, and his suit is black with white pinstripes. I immediately hate him. For a moment I think I recognize his face, but I can't place it. Upon removing the picture from the frame, something falls out. I pick up a small business card emblazoned with the name and number of a high end Italian restaurant, and pocket it.

Upon entering her study, I am struck by how unnaturally clean it is. The mahogany desk has nothing but a lamp and a pen on it. I examine every drawer and every cabinet in the room. There isn't so much as a single sheet of paper. Though I find this suspicious, I don't find anything out of place. Perhaps she simply likes to keep her workspace orderly.

I show the officers on the scene what I found and make sure they make a record of it before I leave. For a moment I'm unsure where to go next. I decide on my office. I needed time to think.

* * *

"Hey! Ema!" I called.

She quickly jogged over to the entrance of the park. "Phoenix! Maya! What are you doing here?"

"Well, we were wondering if we could have a look around." I said innocently. Maya chimes in, "This guy won't let us in!"

"I keep telling you, you're not authorized!" The large black policeman stands firm with his hands on his hips. Ema strides purposefully up to him.

"Who am I?" She asks, leaning in and leering up at him.

"Uh, you're Detective Ema Skye...?" The policeman says tentatively.

"And what am I doing here?"

"Um...you're in charge of the investigation?"

"That's right. I'm in charge. So if I say these two are authorized to enter the crime scene, they're authorized. _Got that?_" She emphasizes the last two words heavily.

The policeman quickly salutes. "Yes ma'am!" Ema steps back and crosses her arms.

"Good." She reaches over and raises up the yellow police tape, allowing us to duck under.

"Thanks, Ema. We owe you one." I say as we head into the park.

"It's no problem. Just try and keep Maya from touching everything, okay?" She replies, smirking over at Maya who sticks her tongue out at her.

Our investigation of the crime scene is uneventful. We don't find anything the police hadn't already noticed. I begin to wonder if we should head back to hospital, or even go home. We didn't seem to be helping much.

Once we finished looking around, we headed back to the entrance of the park, where Ema was throwing chocolate Snackoos at some poor cop. "Ema," I ask, "Where's Edgeworth?"

Ema turns her attention away from berating the young officer long enough for him to escape. "He was heading over to the victim's apartment last I saw him."

"We should go there too, Nick." Maya suggests. "There's got to be a lead there."

"Edgeworth's already there, I think he has the place covered for now..." A thought strikes me suddenly. "Hey, how far away from the park is her apartment?"

Ema blinks at me. "Uh. Fifteen blocks? I'm not exactly sure."

I glance around at the puddles and mud. "It was raining last night. She wouldn't walk that distance in the rain. She must have driven. Which means -"

"Her car is still here!" The two women shout simultaneously. Ema smacks her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that? Stupid stupid _stupid..._"

We practically run to the parking lot. There, sitting smack in the middle, was a bronze colored four door sedan. Ema pulled out a notepad from her bag. "That's the right license plate number. How could I miss this? _Stupid._"

"Don't beat yourself up, Ema," Maya tried to reassure her. "You just got this case this morning. Frankly, I'm impressed with the response you put together on such short notice."

Ema pouted, but at least she had stopped beating herself up. "Thanks, Maya." She pulled some rubber gloves out of her bag and offered them to us. "You wanna help me take look inside?"

I donned my uncomfortably tight rubber gloves and pulled on the door handle. "Locked."

"Not to worry," she said brightly, her enthusiasm returning. She reached into her bag again. After a few moments of rifling through it, she pulled out a device which looked like a cross between a scalpel and a lockpick and stuck it into the keyhole. She pressed a button on the top and held it down, and a positively unholy noise began to emanate from the keyhole. It seemed to grow in volume and malevolence every second. Maya took a few steps back from the door, and I found myself leaning away from the handle. It reached a powerful crescendo before suddenly beeping quietly. Ema smiled triumphantly and removed the device, sticking it back into her bag and yanking the door open.

"A little toy I picked up recently." She said pleasantly as she hit the 'unlock' switch on the inside of the door. "Well? Let's start searching."

Maya shot me a look while Ema's back was turned - halfway between awe and fear - which I returned with a shrug. "You check the back Maya, I'll look around the driver's seat."

She nodded and went to look in the trunk while I walked around and climbed into the driver's seat. It was a decidedly fancy car. Wood accents and leather seats. It was cars like these that made me wish I had one. But whenever I thought of all the expenses associated with getting one, I felt my stomach plummet. It may have been a hassle to rely on my bicycle and public transportation, but at least it was cheap.

Ema was searching the glove compartment next to me. I started looking in the visors and the storage compartment between the seats. Maya opened the back door and climbed in on all fours. "Nothing in the trunk." She said as she dropped to the floor and started looking under the seats.

I swore silently as I closed the compartment. "Nothing in here, either."

Ema slammed the glove compartment shut. "Nothing but maps and and an emergency flashlight."

Suddenly I heard a gasp behind me. When I looked, Maya was halfway beneath the driver's seat. "Find something?" I said hopefully.

"I think so..." she replied slowly. After a moment she emerged from underneath holding a small unmarked book. It looked like a little journal you buy in a book store. "It was underneath the seat. Like someone had cut a hole in the bottom and stashed it there."

I felt my heartbeat grow faster. This had to be a clue. As she opened it and began to read, her expression went from surprise, to disappointment, then finally to puzzled.

"Nick...you better take a look at this." She said as she handed me the book. I flipped through the pages eagerly. At first I thought it was a list of phone numbers - there were names on the left and a series of numbers on the right of every single page. But then I realized they couldn't be. Phone numbers didn't have decimals.

"Lemme see!" Ema practically ripped the thing out of my hands and began reading herself. Soon she was just as confused as the rest of us. "What is this?" She asked aloud.

"Whatever it is, it's important." That much was obvious.

* * *

I shut myself in my office and closed the curtains. The bright light was giving me a migraine. Planting myself firmly in my seat and resting my forehead in my hands, I tried to consider all the facts of the case so far.

Someone had shot Karen.

I shut my eyes as hard as I could and clenched my teeth. I started over.

Someone had shot the victim in the park on the night of March the 11th with a silenced nine millimeter pistol. She had something important she wanted to tell the Chief Prosecutor. There was a cracked photo of someone - possibly an old boyfriend - on the floor of her apartment. Her bed did not appear to have been used that night. Her study was almost completely empty.

These facts added up to exactly nothing. I didn't have any suspects or even any motive. I was at a dead end.

I tried to calm myself. Tried to think about the case from another angle. But nothing helped. I still had no idea who shot her.

I took a deep breath. It hadn't even been a day since the crime had been committed. There was plenty of time to continue the investigation. I couldn't let this drive me crazy.

Forcefully, I pulled a random case file out from the pile on my desk and began reading. I couldn't just sit around and not do anything. There were other cases to consider.

It took all my willpower to not break down and cry right there at my desk. But I kept reading.


End file.
